


Percival the Vigilant

by KatieComma



Series: No One Dies Verse [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, I may make this the start of a series called No One Dies Verse, Love Confession, M/M, Whump, canon-typical suffering, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Gwaine doesn't die because Percival picks him up and takes him back to Gaius and remedies are had.It IS touch and go though.And Gwaine's suffering and almost death makes Percival come to terms with some feelings.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin)
Series: No One Dies Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921594
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	Percival the Vigilant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orianess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/gifts).



> It's been a while since I've posted anything... so I wrote this one-shot to get back on the horse and just FINISH something.
> 
> And there's not enough Perwaine in the world.
> 
> And no one should die.
> 
> So I hope you enjoy.

Percival sat and stared until his eyes were dry and he was afraid to blink them again for how much it would hurt.

Gwaine lay on a bed in Gaius’ chambers, still and pale as the dead. It had been a day since they’d returned to Camelot, and Percival would not leave his side despite Gaius’ insistence.

It was late. Gaius slept nearby. Percival was afraid of sleep. Afraid that, should he shut his eyes, Gwaine would fade away. 

So he kept watch. Vigilant as a knight should ever be.

Percival let his thoughts wander back. Remembered the huddled form of Gwaine, tied between the saplings, hunched over himself and breathing in lurched gasps. “I failed,” he’d said, his face drooping and forlorn. The face that Percival had taken into his hands. It had felt so right, holding Gwaine, and he wondered why he’d never done it before. Watching the light leave Gwaine’s eyes as he sagged forward would haunt Percival forever, even if he survived. But he hadn’t given up, he couldn’t have given up, love wouldn’t allow it. Love had wormed it’s way between them and wrapped them up in its tendrils and he hadn’t even noticed. Percival had taken his love and turned it to strength and desperation. Breaking Gwaine’s bonds, he’d shouldered him like a sack of flour and walked from the woods until he found someone kind enough to give him aid and a horse. The ride to Camelot had been hard, and tears had threatened Percival the whole trip as Gwaine lay in front of him cold to the touch and so still. But love had driven Percival forward, and would drive him until the end of his days. And now he hoped that love was enough to keep Gwaine alive, and fighting.

Gwaine suddenly stirred, his body twitching and writhing.

Gaius was at his side instantly, touching his forehead.

Percival sat and watched and could do nothing. Rage built in him at feeling so useless. “What? What is it?” He asked.

Gaius pulled back a bandage covering one of the Nathair wounds. Something foul seeped from the puncture marks.

“His body is pushing the poison out,” Gaius said. “It will be painful, and it may take him long to recover once it’s done. But the salve I made is drawing it out. If he can press on through this, he will live.”

An awful noise was pressed out of Gwaine’s mouth, though he stayed unconscious, and his body bucked off of the bed. His face flushed red, and sweat beaded at his brow.

Percival found himself on his knees at the bedside before he even realized he’d moved. He took Gwaine’s hand loosely in his own.

Gaius rushed away and came back with a bowl and cloth, setting them on a small table. “If you want to help, soak the cloth in the water and set it to his brow. It will help to keep him cool. Other than that, there’s not much we can do but wait.”

Percival took up the cloth immediately and set it to Gwaine’s forehead.

“And talk to him,” Gaius said gently.

“Talk?” Percival asked.

“He may not be able to hear you,” Gaius said, “but if he can, it will help.”

“How long?” Percival asked. “How long until this is finished?”

“He was bitten many times,” Gaius said, “he held out for a long while. I’ve never seen anything so severe. It may take hours.”

Percival nodded, and set about his task. He soaked and replaced the cloth over and over, feeling the heat of Gwaine’s skin burning through it. He talked and talked; told stories they had made together, and adventures they’d had, and told stories of Percival's youth, the better ones, not the ones full of sorrow. Interspersed he begged Gwaine to stay.

Adrenaline was wearing off and Percival felt the overwhelming exhaustion creeping into his bones. He didn’t know how long he’d been at Gwaine’s bedside, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. “Gwaine,” he said tiredly, “it was out of love I saved you. Out of love you must live.” He half laughed, starting to feel delirious, talking like the virtuous knight to his maiden from the old stories; perhaps he was dreaming and he would awake and Gwaine would be alive. But he didn’t dare to hope, and continued. “If you don’t live I’ll wallop you for sure.”

Gwaine had gone still some time before. Not frighteningly so, his chest moved up and down, but he’d stopped writhing with the pain. Percival hoped it wasn’t because his body was too weak, and instead because he was getting better.

Percival ran his hand back through Gwaine’s hair, soaked through with sweat and dirt; leaves and grass from the forest matted throughout. Gwaine’s beautiful hair. Percival kissed his forehead before he replaced the cloth again. “Now that I know I love you,” he confessed, “I think I know when I first came to love you. Do you remember the first day we met? When Arthur sat us down at that dusty old round table and asked who would join him. Do you remember what you said to him?” He paused as though Gwaine could answer. “I do. You said: ‘I think we’ve no chance. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’” Percival choked a little on his emotion. “There was such kindness and bravery in your eyes. Such ease and comfort in your stance, and I thought: this is what a knight should be. What a man should be. And how foolish I was not to realize that each time my eye was drawn to you in a crowd, or each time I made my place by your side in battle, it was out of a love stronger than brotherly. Gwaine you must live, don’t you see? For I’ll be ruined if you don’t. And you’ve always liked me. Said so from the beginning. Even if you don’t love me the same in return, you like me enough not to let me come to such an end as being without you.” 

Percival stopped talking for a while. The emotion was running too high in him, and he couldn’t speak over what felt like a stone lodged in his throat.

Gaius came into the room, and Percival couldn’t remember him leaving. The moment the old man set his basket down he came to Gwaine’s side and pulled away the bandages again. “The poison is gone,” he said, removing the bandages. He started replacing them with new that weren’t soiled with the foul venom. “Now we must wait for him to wake.” He touched Gwaine’s forehead. “You can stop with the cloth. The fever has gone.”

Percival wanted nothing more than to crawl in next to Gwaine and hold him tightly. But the cot was too small to accommodate both of them, so he settled on the floor, feeling the pull of despair with no task to keep him focused.

“You should rest Percival,” Gaius suggested as he finished with the bandages. “There is really no more that you can do. Merlin’s bed is empty and-”

“I’ll be here,” Percival said firmly. “When he wakes or… whatever happens I’ll be at his side.”

Gaius simply nodded and retreated to a corner of the room. He returned a short while later with a small bowl of soup from the pot on the fire. “You will not be at his side much longer if you don’t eat something,” he said.

Percival took the soup, and waited until it had cooled enough that he could simply drink it down without having to remove his hand from Gwaine’s. He set the bowl aside on the floor and settled back in to watch and wait.

It was the twitching of Gwaine’s fingers that wakened Percival. Their hands were tangled together, and Percival had apparently lain his head down on the cot and fallen asleep, the warm soup in his stomach lulling him into dreams. But the twitching of Gwaine’s fingers sent a bolt of alarm through him, and he sat up tall, awake instantly.

Gwaine was already opening his eyes in Percival’s direction. Those deep brown eyes that were usually sparking with mischief or deep and intense with his determination. This time they were clouded with sleep and illness.

Percival let out a happy sound and rolled up onto his knees to get closer. Before he could think, head still foggy with sleep, he set a hand to Gwaine’s cheek, his beard soft to the touch. He wanted to say something, to ask how he felt, but Percival’s throat choked up again and he couldn’t find the words.

And then Gwaine smiled and Percival felt dizzy like the earth was crumbling out from under him.

“Percival,” Gwaine said softly, happiness in his tone. “I think I dreamed about you.”

Percival laughed, it dislodged the emotion stuck in his throat. “A good dream I hope?”

Gwaine’s smile widened. “The best kind of dream.”

“Ah, Gwaine, you’ve wakened,” Gaius said, crossing the room.

Percival moved to pull his hand back, but Gwaine put his own over it and held it firm to his cheek.

“Alright Percival,” Gaius chided, “give me some room to work so I can check him over.”

Percival felt his cheeks redden as he slipped his hand away, and untangled the fingers of his other so he could sit back and give Gaius room.

Gwaine looked at him desperately, as though he were leaving on a ship bound for a distant land and not moving a few feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Percival said firmly. “I’ll be right here.”

“You knights,” Gaius said under his breath, “always so dramatic.”

Gwaine smiled at Gaius. “Ah, but it’s drama that makes a good knight and-” He hissed as he tried to sit up.

“No, no, no,” Gaius said. “You almost died Gwaine. You need to rest. Lie back. How do you feel?”

Gwaine gritted his teeth and closed his eyes to the pain, before he settled back comfortably in the bed and answered. “Like I’ve been trampled by a herd of coursers.”

“You’ve no fever at all anymore,” Gaius assessed, “and the wounds are closing. You’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time.”

“And I’ll play a fine jig,” Gwaine joked.

“Don’t take it so lightly, Gwaine,” Gaius warned. “If not for Percival here you’d have surely died. You owe him your life.”

“This time and many times over,” Gwaine said fondly, turning his gaze back to Percival. “I owe him many things.”

“And you’ll owe him another debt yet,” Gaius said. “You’re well enough to be out of my way. So he’ll be taking you off my hands. However, you’ll still need watching. So Percival will be playing nursemaid until you’re back on your feet.”

Gwaine smiled. “I’ll be shining your boots for the rest of your life, my friend,” he said to Percival.

“No need,” Percival said. “It is no debt, my services are freely given.”

“I doubt you’d let him out of your sight anyway,” Gaius said. “Since you’ve been sitting here for three days watching him like a mother hen.”

A little of the mischief sparked back into Gwaine’s eyes. “Is that so?”

Gaius nodded. “Now, take him to his room and watch over him,” he said to Percival, handing over a small bottle. “If the pain gets too much give him one drop per day. Only one. If the fever returns or he gets worse, send for me. Let him move around if he feels able, but don’t push too hard.”

Percival took in all the instruction, listening carefully to ensure he did things right. He stowed the little bottle in his pocket and returned to the cot. He held out his hand to Gwaine, who took it. Their palms met and it felt so intimate, especially with the look of gratefulness Gwaine gave him.

Percival pulled him to his feet and Gwaine grunted in pain, his knees almost immediately giving way. Percival slid an arm around his ribs and held him upright and steady.

“You may need to carry him,” Gaius said. “He’ll still be weak. I trust you don’t need help?”

Gwaine barked a laugh. “You’ll not carry me,” he said. “I am a knight of Camelot and will not be seen being carried about like a weakling.”

Percival smiled. “But you _are_ a weakling,” he said, “even if it’s just temporary.” It felt good to be bantering again. It seemed surreal after so long talking to Gwaine with no reply, as though he were dreaming.

Gwaine struggled to put his feet under him again, but his knees would not hold him.

Percival sighed and swung him up into his arms, one arm under his back, the other behind his knees.

“It’s late,” Gaius offered, “no one will be about.”

Gwaine threw his head back dramatically. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”

“Not a chance,” Percival replied with a smile. He tucked Gwaine close to him to make it through the small doorway and left Gaius behind.

On his way to Gwaine’s room he realized that Gwaine had mostly likely shared that bed with Eira. After her betrayal and execution, Percival couldn’t believe Gwaine would want to lay up for days in that bed. It held too many dear memories, and most likely still the scent of the woman.

Percival walked further down the hall to his own room.

“This is not my room,” Gwaine said softly.

“I know I look like a great big idiot,” Percival said, “but I’m not one.”

“I never called you an idiot,” Gwaine’s voice was soft as he looked up at Percival.

Percival smiled. “You call me an idiot all the time,” he returned just as softly.

“Think of it as an endearment,” Gwaine said.

Percival barked a little laugh and opened the door to his chamber. It was much the same as Gwaine’s, lavish compared to the rooms they’d both known growing up: a large canopy bed took up one wall, the rest were covered with tapestries and an armoire. There were rugs on the stone floors, and a table with two chairs on the other side of the room.

Percival set him down on the bed, and moved to stoke the fire.

Gwaine groaned softly as he moved in the bed. “Your bed is finer than mine,” he complained. And then more quietly, maybe not meant for Percival to hear: “Or maybe it’s just because it’s yours.”

After coaxing the fire to life, Percival helped Gwaine settle into the bed under the blankets. He sat down on the edge. “How are you feeling? And don’t make a joke of it, I’m serious.”

“I don’t like you serious,” Gwaine mused softly. “I prefer your jokes. You’re very funny you know? It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

Percival laughed and looked down at his own hands. “Tell me more of your favourite things about me why don’t you,” he joked.

“Your kindness,” Gwaine said with no hesitation, reaching out and gently touching Percival’s forearm. “Your selflessness. Your bravery. Your life saving tendencies.” At the last one he laughed a little, his voice so fond.

Percival turned to look at him and felt naked emotion wash across his face in a wave. He was exhausted, so far beyond trying to hide anything he felt. He moved his hand to lay on the bed between them, an open invitation, which Gwaine took immediately, slotting their fingers together.

“I heard you,” Gwaine said. “You spoke to me while I was healing.”

Percival looked down at their joined hands, feeling his face turn red.

“I heard you,” Gwaine repeated. “I thought it was a splendid dream, and it may have been. But somehow I don’t think so.”

Percival was afraid of what he felt, especially when he felt so raw with tiredness and almost-grief and worry. “What can I… get you? Do you need anything?” He asked, trying to divert the conversation.

“Come to bed with me,” Gwaine stated, it wasn’t a question.

Percival met his eye again, and something was there between them that he’d always been afraid to name. Was there the way it had always been there. “But I… you… it’s…” He struggled to find any words, confused about what he wanted to ask or say.

Gwaine pulled a little on his hand, and Percival could feel the weakness in it, the way his muscles gave out before he wanted them to. “Please.”

“Why?” Percival asked.

Gwaine smiled kindly. “It may be because I’ve had a fever for several days, but I’m a bit cold,” he said, “and I know for a fact after having slept next to you many times that you run hotter than a baker’s oven.” He paused and thought for a moment before he continued. “And the other reason is purely selfish. I stayed for you, just as you asked me, and so now I mean to keep you. With that in mind, I would very much like to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

Everything hit Percival all at once like a torrent: his exhaustion, the emotions that he’d been swallowing down when they tried to claw their way up his throat. But most of all: Gwaine was alive! And Gwaine loved him in return! Percival’s brow wrinkled as a few tears slipped from his eyes.

“Come here,” Gwaine demanded, voice hoarse with emotion as well as he pulled at Percival’s hand again.

Percival leaned across the bed. Gwaine lifted his other hand and wiped the tears from his cheeks. His fingers were rough, but they were no longer cold and damp, they were warmed through. Percival took that hand in his own and pressed a kiss to the palm.

“For a first kiss I was expecting something more romantic,” Gwaine sighed with a smile. “But you’ve never been the traditional sort.”

Percival leaned down and set their foreheads together the way he had in the woods when he’d thought Gwaine was dead. When he thought there was no coming back. He was so glad he’d been wrong. So glad that he hadn’t given up hope.

“You’re hopeless,” Gwaine joked, breaking the tension. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for years and you keep holding out on me.”

Percival tilted his head, nudged his nose against Gwaine’s, and then kissed him softly. Gwaine opened his mouth in blatant invitation, but Percival didn’t take it.

“You’re still recovering,” Percival said in answer to that silent invitation, when he broke the kiss. “Don’t you remember me carrying you up here?”

Gwaine’s smile lit up his face. “You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“Never,” Percival promised with one more soft meeting of their lips. 

He stood up from the bed and realized that he was still wearing his mail and his boots. And how his feet ached for having been in those boots for days and days. He moved to the armoire, and opened the doors before he started to strip his clothing away. He dropped the mail onto the little table, kicked off his boots, and left his shirt on the chair next to it. He reached into the armoire and grabbed a soft linen shirt to sleep in.

“Percival?” Gwaine called from the bed.

“I’ll be right there,” Percival called back.

“Just you,” Gwaine said.

Percival turned back to him, confused as he pulled the soft shirt overhead.

“Take it off,” Gwaine said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was cold. It’ll be warmer that way. Nothing between us.”

Percival smiled, cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “None of that now. You’re still too ill for that nonsense.”

Gwaine sighed. “I’m too tired for any kind of nonsense, believe me,” he said. “I just want to feel your skin. Please.” The last word had a bit of a whine to it that Percival had never heard from Gwaine’s mouth before, and he gave in. He turned his back and stripped the rest of his clothing away in silence before he plodded over to the bed. They’d seen each other naked before, bathing in rivers and streams when out on patrols. But this was different.

Percival climbed under the blankets and slid close to Gwaine. He looked down at him like a precious piece of glass that he might break if he touched him just wrong.

Gwaine smiled again, and took Percival’s hand, drawing it across his stomach to wrap around him. “There is a good place. Nothing hurts there,” he said when he laid Percival's arm down.

Percival relaxed and pulled his grip tight, bringing the front of his body up against Gwaine’s side. Gwaine hadn't lied, he was still cold, Percival could feel it through his clothing. “Does it hurt much?” He asked against Gwaine’s cheek.

“I can feel the bites,” Gwaine said. “Like the stings of a nettle. But no more than that. Otherwise I just ache everywhere. Like we’ve been fighting in the melee for three days straight.”

“You would have to go for three days,” Percival said. “I’d have won in ten minutes.”

Gwaine laughed against him, his body shaking with it.

“Gwaine?” Percival asked.

“Mmm?” Gwaine asked, already starting to drift off. He brought a hand up to rest on Percival’s forearm where it crossed his body.

“It was all true,” Percival said, “every word I said was true. I have loved you since the day I met you.”

Gwaine turned his head almost drunkenly and their noses rubbed against one another. “I have loved you for so long I can’t remember when I last loved anyone else.” He kissed Percival softly once more. And they fell asleep that way, holding each other, keeping each other safe and warm, with promises of the life ahead of them yet to live.


End file.
